


Ghosty Pancakes

by Salimah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, What can I say I like weird Aus, also the reader makes a lot of sarcastic comments, bucky is a ghost, ghost!bucky, i feel like i needed to say that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 10:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12363735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimah/pseuds/Salimah
Summary: In an absolute state of lack of sleep and boredom, you summoned a ghost playing the ouija. Now that you have a unexpected new roommate, there is only one thing to do. Feed him, of course.





	Ghosty Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angryschnauzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryschnauzer/gifts), [SithHappens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SithHappens/gifts).



> This is my contribution to angryschnauzer and ursulaismymiddlename challenge “If You Go Down To The Woods Today” in Tumblr. I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, and I didn’t had a beta with this one, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think!

There’s a bloody man in the middle of your living room.

“Oh, crap,” you whisper from the hallway, still half hidden by the corner of the wall and in your Power Rangers pajamas, but he had already seen you.

He didn’t said nothing and just looked at you with dark, empty eyes. You stood there looking at him long enough to feel the heaviness in the air sink into you too. You shook your head and left your trance when your neck began to ache to have it bent in that position.

You stepped carefully forward into the room, feeling a chill run down your spine as the man’s eyes followed you. His gaze felt like ice on your hot skin, and there was something in his presence that made you want to run and hide under your bed.

You moved in your place a couple of meters from him, your couch making a barrier between you two. At least you’d have a few seconds to go if he decided to attack, but judging by the man’s physical stature and mass, you had no chance of running to the door. You opened your mouth to say something, whatever, because this guy was making you nervous.

“Do you want a wet wipe?” You said before you could think of anything else to say. You had a point, though. The man was dirty from head to toes. His hair was disheveled and grimy, and the skin you could see was stained with what looked like dirt and mud. The obsessive part of you was running his gaze all over the figure of the stranger, thinking what kind of softener to use to wash that uniform.

Oh. He has a uniform. Okay.

The intruder didn’t answer. Instead he clenched his jaw and concentrated on looking at you more intensely. His eyes gleamed with a captivating blue, and for a moment you plunged into his look again. Never before in your life you had seen eyes like that. A uniformed, bleeding man with eyes as bright as diamonds. At least your possible killer was handsome, not many are that lucky.

Heavy silence settled for a few more minutes before the tension in the air became too much for you.

“Listen, my friend, I have no idea who you are, but this is the third time in two years that someone has gotten into my apartment through the window, and considering the situation, that’s a very alarming number.” You paused to check the stranger’s reaction to your sudden outburst. Nothing on his face had changed. “But at least those people just stole some food from my refrigerator and My Little Pony lamp before I threw them with my broom.” The intruder’s expression was completely blank. You sighed. “You’re just standing there staring at me and bleeding on my carpet.

The man just changed weight on his feet and looked at you up and down.

Well, if that’s how it is.

"Alright. I’ll go to sleep now” you said as you stepped back into the hallway. The man frowned and looked at you strangely. He probably was thinking about the stupid way you were acting. Leave a stranger with the appearance of a serial killer in the middle of your living room and just go to sleep? That was insane. In your defense, you were mentally tired enough for not to care at all. “Don’t break anything!”

The man watched as you looked with your hands for the handle of the door of your room, not wanting to look away from him. By the time you slipped into the security of your bedroom, the man’s expression had once again become as cold and blank as before. “And don’t kill me, please”

And with that you closed the door of your room, a last flash of blue eyes like the steel staring at you like his prey.

* * *

 

You dragged your feet out of bed with laziness, your eyes still half closed and your hair disheveled. To be completely honest, you weren’t sure if you had awakened at all. The light coming in through the window was behind you, but it still dazzled you and there was no chance of you going back to bed. You made a mental note to buy some curtains. Very thick, preferably.

Ignoring the protests of your inner self, you put your feet in your slippers and left your room in the direction of the small kitchen. You stumbled several times on your way to the pot, but it would be worth it as soon as you had your celestial caffeine nectar. You made your coffee in record time and you took the milk out of the refrigerator. When you went for the fruit cereal, you realized that you had left it last night in the living room under the couch when you had eaten as a walrus all that you had in your possession.

With a drowsy groan, you crawled into the room reluctantly. Your apartment was tiny and didn’t take long to move from room to room, so when you left the kitchen with your so needed coffee you didn’t explain how it was that you didn’t notice the man bleeding in the middle of your living room.

Oh, right. The creepy guy in the uniform.

“You still are here?” It was a stupid question, but your sleep-deprived brain does not usually cooperate so early in the morning.

The intruder made a gesture that you assumed would have been a turn of eyes but would have gone as fast as it came.

“Uh…” you said, squeezing the hot cup in your hands. The man looked at you as he did last night, staring at you and giving you that expression of ‘You’re the stupidest person I’ve ever met.’ He was in exactly the same place as the night before, and the blood stain on your carpet had grown considerably. Where the hell does the blood come from? “Want a coffee?”

The intruder-though you knew this guy was more than that-clenched his fists at the sides of his body, and you started to wonder if he was considering hurting you.

“If you don’t like coffee, I also have tea”

This seemed to fill the man’s patience. His blank face turned into an angry expression. You knew that look; You were annoying. Amazing. You felt the corner of your mouth tremble in a smile. The intruder, on the other hand, was not amused.

His eyes, already strange in themselves, began to glow. And not like they had done the night before in the dark of your living room. Now they were glowing. It was as if his eyes had been replaced by two spheres of blue light, illuminating his face. The air around her began to tremble, and instantly the smile wiped from your lips.

You retreated frantically until you hit the wall as the air around the man went from shivering to truly shivering, as if a giant magnet were drawing energy from the room to him. You could still see his face, though. He was concentrating and frowning, as if he was striving to do something with much, much strength.

You were panicking for that moment, when suddenly the energy that had built up in the room turned with force towards the man, and disappeared with a final flash. The air calmed down and you felt as you breathed again.

The man - or whatever he was - no longer looked at you, and either was as still he had been before. You refused to move from your place on the wall, too frightened to approach. Your knees were shaking and you had the feeling that if you tried to run away, your legs would not give the strength to do it. The man stood quietly in place between the couch and the coffee table, his shoulders slumped and his breath heavy. After the energy discharge a few moments ago, the room was in complete silence.

Just when you thought you could move, the man raised his head and looked directly in your direction. You felt like he saw through your body and soul, and you gasped as he let out a snarl; It was the first sound you heard him make.

He straighten his shoulders and stretch his fingers, like he was preparing to move.

Move. Get prepared. Gaze killer and creepy guy bleeding. That couldn’t be good for you.

It was then that the man stepped aside, moving from his place for the first time since you saw him last night, and you screamed when you realized he was moving toward you. In the midst of your panic, you threw to him the only thing you had within reach as a defense: the missile was the cup of hot coffee that you didn’t know how it had been in your hands all this time. The man stopped a few paces away and watched in slow motion as the cup swung in the air in his direction.

He didn’t move or reacted when the cup reached his chest. Instead, you felt like your eyes were coming out of their orbits when the cup simply went through him. It went through him. Like he was made of air. The man looked at his chest first and then behind him where the cup lay spilling hot coffee on the floor. Then he turned to you again.

“Oh, holy mother of cookies,” you whispered. So you did what you thought was the best solution to get out of this situation unharmed.

You fainted.

* * *

“Let’s go over what you told me again, okay?” You said against the cup of the now cold coffee that you had longed for a couple of hours ago. The man was sitting on the floor beside the stain of blood he had left there, in front of your seat in the couch. Now that you had him closer and talked to him, he wasn’t so scary anymore. You still wanted to hit him with your broom, though. You let go of that thought as you caressed your head, just where you hit the ground when you fainted. Yeah, that was embarrassing.

“So, I, last night, in my absolute state of stupidity and gluttony, invoked you while playing in the damn ouija?” The man– no, ghost, nodded and looked down, avoiding your eyes. Now that you had had a real conversation with him, you realized that he wasn’t really as hard and intimidating as he seemed when you first saw him. His behavior was more timid, like he is more afraid of you than you are to him.

“And the light thing you did before, it was so you could move and talk?” The man nodded again. “Well, you sure are dramatic.”

The shock would soon disappear giving way to the inevitable panic attack that this situation would abduct you, but for now you will enjoy the calm of knowing that there is a goddamn ghost in front of you. At least he was not an aggressive ghost.

“You almost scared the shit out of me” you pressed the cup in your hands, putting it down and resting it in your lap. Your face was puckered in reproach, and part of you felt ridiculous because, God, you were rebuking a ghost for appearing in your house. Isn’t that his job, anyway?

The man looked up again and his spectaculars blue eyes took your breath away again. It took you a second to recover from your amazement to realize that his gaze was filled with regret. Instantly you felt guilty. You didn’t want to make him feel bad. After all, it’s your fault that he’s here in the first place.

You forced to soften your expression and you relaxed your position, letting out a sigh. “But at least you didn’t steal anything.” A comforting smile stumbled on your lips. The man blinked his gaze from your eyes to your mouth, as if he couldn’t believe that you were really being kind to him. “That’s more than what some of my ex’s have done”

An awkward silence settled in the room. It was obvious that the man– ghost; You keep forgetting it– wasn’t very talkative, but you couldn’t think of anything but to say in addition to the stream of incoherent thoughts that ran at full speed in your head, and to be honest he had heard enough of your nonsense babbling.

He was still looking at you, though. His eyes haven’t turned away from you, not even when the intensity of his gaze was too much for you and you had to concentrate on something else; When you turned your attention to him again, he was still watching you closely. You wondered what he was so captivated with.

The thought that maybe this was the first time he was face to face with someone alive made your heart ache.

“What are you going to do with me?” His question made you jump. His voice was strange, to say the least. It was as if he echoed in his own throat, clanging metallically in the room. It was weird to have a conversation with him before, and you weren’t even sure if you would get used to the way he spoke, but you would try.

Stealing a glance at the ouija table that was still lying on your coffee table, you bit your lip nervously. What were you going to do with him? It’s not like you can give him back where he came from. And you’re not very expert at this exorcism thing either. You decided to do what you always do in stressful situations.

“You want something to eat? The cereal is almost gone, but I still have some eggs and flour to make pancakes.”

The man frowned and looked at you confused. You left the coffee cup aside and you stood up, shaking your clothes and reaching out a hand. There was a tacit question in the gesture, a tentative offer. He didn’t want to hurt you, and you didn’t want to hurt him. The best thing to seal this deal was a good portion of pancakes.

He looked at your hand for a few seconds with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t identify. This man, this ghost, wasn’t going to hurt you –or so you want to believe– but he didn’t seem to be very convinced that you weren’t going to hurt him. Although there is still a little panic in the back of your head that tells you to finally make good use of the hundreds of hours watching Supernatural, the rest of you felt confident in the man presence.

Hell, he’s more afraid of you than you are to him.

Seeming to see the sincerity in your eyes, the stranger shyly extended his hand to yours and gave you a firm grip. With a smile you helped him up and moved to the kitchen. You stood for a second on your steps, looking behind you to the ground and behind your now invited. There was no blood.

Umm, strange. If your new friend’s wound was still open, it was supposed to keep dripping.

“All the blood I had is already out,” he said seriously. Well, that sounded creepy. Shrugging and giving the man a reassuring look, you kept pulling him toward the kitchen.

“Sit around while I warm the frying pan” you made a vague gesture to the counter stools while you opened the refrigerator to get the eggs. When you had all the ingredients in place, you turned to see him still standing in the doorway, looking unsure of himself. You sighed as you took a step closer to him. “Love, come on. It doesn’t bother me" You said quietly. You hesitated for a moment, but after looking at him for a few more seconds you reached out and took his hand again, giving him a gentle squeeze and offering him a reassuring smile.

He alternated his gaze between your joined hands and your face, the way you held his palm so softly and so delicately catching his attention. You don’t know what happens after death, but it seems like a long time since someone has treated this man well. Your heart stirred a little as he returned the squeeze in your hand and walked slowly to the seat you had pointed out, looking at the stool strangely before taking a seat.

Turning your back on him again, you returned to your task of making breakfast. It was nearly eleven o'clock and your stomach was grunting for food. You haven’t realized how hungry you were until you had food so close to you. The situation had distracted you enough to make you forget your desire to eat, which was hard to do. God, you love food.

“Your house is really odd” the man said behind you. You resisted the impulse to jump and you cast a glance over your shoulder. He was looking around curiously, touching whatever was within his reach. “I haven’t been in such a colorful place in a while,” he whispered as he playing with flowered kitchen gloves.

You let out a chuckle as you flipped the pancakes into the pan. “I like colors. My mom says I have a lot of trash unusable, but I like it” You poured the first pancakes on a plate and you kept cooking the rest. “Do you want honey in the yours, or do you prefer them with butter?”

“Honey?” He said in a surprised gasp, and when you turned to look at him his eyes were open with a glimmer of hope. “Butter? Are you trying to trick me?”

You smiled and put the rest of the pancakes on another plate, lifting the bottle of honey and showing it to him. His gasp of joy made you laugh again. “I’ll put both in the yours, if that’s what you want, uh …” you left the sentence hanging. All this time and it had not occurred to you to ask his name.

You put butter and extra honey on the man’s plate while you heard as his feet hit the ground impatiently. You hadn’t finished putting the dish in front of him before he was already devouring the meal like a hungry man. It occurred to you that maybe this was the first time he had a decent meal. Maybe ghosts don’t even need to eat. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

The man whose name you still didn’t know moaned and closed his eyes in delight as he took the first bite of his plate. “This tastes better than what I ate down there” is what you can understand when he speaked with his mouth full. You decided that you really didn’t wanted to know what he meant by 'down there’.

“You haven’t had some good pancakes in a while, huh?”

“I’ve never had such good pancakes” the compliment made you feel warm inside and you hid a smile behind your fork. He kept eating until he realized you looking, and slowed his pace until taking small bites, avoiding your gaze again.

“I think we didn’t formally introduce ourselves,” you said, taking a sip of your cold coffee. The man looked up from his pancakes and made eye contact with you, his blue eyes glowing with the light coming from the window. “I’m Y / N and I’m stupid enough to summon a ghost in my living room,” you said between bites, then pointed at him, a piece of pancake hanging from your fork. “Your turn. Would you, mysterious stranger?”

The man chewed a couple of times slowly before your words reached him. Then he gave you an immediate answer, liked he had repeated it many times before.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes” the quick, firm way he said it surprised you, and you backed out. The man, James Buchanan Barnes, straightened too, affected by his own words. It was lik4 he haven’t heard his own name in a while.

“Okay…” you said slowly, getting back to eating your pancakes and taking another sip of your coffee. “That’s a long name. Do you present yourself like this with everyone? Nevermind, I’ll give you a nickname. Would you like me to give you a nickname? I always give nicknames to the people I like. I like you. You’re nice and you like pancakes. Pancakes are amazing. "You let out the verbal vomit you had been holding back for the last hour. It was strange to spend so many time saying only two sentences at a time.

James Buchanan Barnes looked at you, his fork halfway to his mouth. You felt as you melted inside as the corners of his lips lifted into a timid smile. How you even thinked this guy was scary? He’s fucking adorable.

"Bucky,” he murmured, pushing the last of his meal with his fork, avoiding your gaze for what you felt was the tenth time. You waited a few seconds for him to continue, and when he did, he looked at you with his eyes glowing blue. “That’s my nickname. Bucky”

“Bucky…” you repeated more to yourself than to him. “Huh. Nice name”

You got up from your seat and picked up the dirty dishes. You felt his eyes burning holes in your back as you washed the dishes, his intense gaze giving you shivers. You dried your hands on a towel when you finished and turned to Bucky again, glancing at his clothes full of blood and dirty skin before pressing your lips and stretching to pick up the cleaning products under the cupboard.

“Okay, Bucky, now you’re going to help me clean up. Because you leaved a very awful stain on my carpet” You almost screamed as you walked past him into the living room, pushing the chair and center table aside to make more room. You heard Bucky stop behind you, staring at the stain he had left.

You looked at him with a stern expression and you didn’t allow the puppy eyes he was giving you had effects on you.

“And I _like_ this carpet” you were exaggerating, but that red stain definitely looked bad, and you didn’t want it there. You threw a bottle of soap at Bucky and then knelt on the floor, ready to let out the obsessive cleaner that only comes to light every thirty moons. “Lets work, sweetheart.”

You weren’t looking at him, but you knew Bucky was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Three goddamn hours translating this. And I’m sure is kinda awful. But I liked how figured out anyway. Just like I already say, if you see any mistake, let me know. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think!


End file.
